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Campbell_Bethany_Sekret_z_Allegro
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
carrion to draw the vultures. He checked out a steady stream of waitresses with plunging silk necklines
defying gravity to stay in place.
Eleven and a half minutes in, he spotted a possible Marta-Anya match just as the DJ dimmed the lights
and spun up a Livia Cicero ballad. The waitress s long blond hair gathered back in a clasp shone like a
beacon among the predominantly dark-haired locals, although her dusky skin and brown eyes with an
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exotic tilt hinted at a bottle of hair bleach. He tracked her progress, logging details.
Why couldn t anyone find more than a single photo? Even other records were confusing as hell. Anya
Surac here. Marta A. Surac, forty-three, reported elsewhere. She seemed to have fallen out of thin air,
and there were no records of her traveling.
Odd, but not totally out of the realm of possibility. No passports were required in the EU, so she could
be from any multitude of small villages that at best reported births in church records if at all.
Furthermore, if her background was shady, there could be name changes involved to further complicate
matters.
The one grainy photo on file of Marta A. Surac resembled the Anya woman. In the dim lighting, she
appeared to be younger than the woman in the photo, but he couldn t be sure without a closer look.
An army lieutenant grabbed her ass. Apparently tonight lieutenant was Greek for fucking moron.
Nunez started forward.
Marta-Anya spun on her spike heel, ponytail slicing the air. Her hand flashed with a streak of metal. She
stabbed a steak knife into the wooden table half an inch away from the luminaire. Slowly, precisely, she
eased away and gestured to the soldier s uneaten meal with a smile as if it were common practice to
embed eating utensils in varnished mahogany.
Nunez leaned back in his chair and watched the show. The lady in red did not need his help.
Three other men in uniform at the table whistled and applauded. She nodded regally and strode away, no
swish to her steps or the silk dress. Nothing but efficiency and speed. With those looks, her speed, and
her ass uh, sass she no doubt raked in generous tips.
He studied her as she drew closer and her face became clearer . . . Definitely not in her forties. More like
mid-twenties. He scrutinized her features for any signs of plastic surgery and found none. Adding years
for a disguise was easy. Shaving years off for a disguise, however, he d always been able to see through.
Damn.
So he was dealing with two different women. The older Surac woman who was his suspect and this
younger woman who might or might not be tied in. Without question, they bore a striking resemblance to
each other, even with the age difference. The similarity of names certainly upped the chances that they
were related.
She walked right past him and leaned on the bar to ask for another round of drinks in Turkish. He did a
double take. She was short. He wouldn t have guessed it from the way she d reined in that table with
such massive chutzpah. Maybe five foot two. She arched up on her toes to place the order.
Nice job, he said in Spanish, since that was his cover country.
She frowned at him and shook her head uncomprehendingly.
Nice job? he swapped to carefully accented English. Handling those soldiers he glanced at her
brass name tag pinned to her dress Anya.
He could speak passable Turkish and understood it fluently, but he wanted to keep that bit of information
to himself.
Oh, that was nothing, she answered in heavily accented English while counting bills before shoving them
in her apron pocket.
Thatwas nothing? Looked impressive to him. Impressive enough to keep even him on guard around her.
There weren t many who could accomplish that after so long spent watching his back.
Would you like another drink?
Where did you learn to defend yourself so effectively?
She peered back over her shoulder through narrowed eyes. Are you looking for a demonstration? I
have another knife within reach, although I grow weary from how long I carry trays. I might miss and cut
off a finger. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
